Smart
by Ham Atom
Summary: Set in season 1. Daniel Jackson has a smart mouth. It occasionally gets him in trouble. It even occasionally gets him in trouble on purpose. Apparently he's pretty convinced it's a character flaw - some of the time. Jack and Daniel friendship. Hurt/Comfort, humor, and sweetness. Oneshot.


A/N: So this story. Oooh, this story. First of all, I did not have time to write it. Yet I wrote it anyway. See, it's actually based on a dream I had. I'd never had a Stargate SG-1 dream before, and I thought I'd better get this weird thing written out. Figured, if I have to deal with my subconscious, why not subject perfect strangers to it as well? Also, I probably shouldn't have been so surprised that my subconscious is really smarmy.

Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate SG-1 or the characters therein. Those were someone else's dream. This story is mine.

This takes place season one after "Singularity." As far as spoilers are concerned, everything before that is fair game.

* * *

It wasn't an uncommon thing for Daniel Jackson to be late. Apparently punctuality was not a prerequisite for any of the fancy, impressive degrees or a byproduct of studying all the various cultures or learning the dozens of languages. Not that the kid was unreliable. He was a professional through and through. You just generally had to tell him that the 8:00 briefing was at 7:30 if you wanted him there by five til. Wasn't such a high price to pay to work with a genius, right? Even if that genius was wrapped up inside a floppy-haired, glasses-wearing, runny-nosed, baby-faced, awkward, grinning, untrained, perpetually-tardy, twenty-something geek.

_I'm gonna kill him._ Jack O'Neill hung up the phone when Daniel's answering machine picked up for what had to be the fiftieth time. It didn't help that the recording was an all-too cheery Daniel sounding like a kid whose mom just handed him the phone and asked him to say something nice. _Oh. This is Dr. Daniel Jackson. I'm very sorry I can't come to the phone right now…_ It also didn't help that Daniel might like to play the part of the absentminded professor, but he'd never been _this_ late before. The meeting—the one that Daniel had organized to brief them on a possible cultural link to blah-blah-blah on P3X-etcetera etcetera—was scheduled to have _ended_ over an hour ago.

Well. That didn't necessarily mean anything. Wouldn't be the first time Daniel had run his cordless phone through the washing machine. And the kid was constantly staying late at the mountain. Jack had kicked him out personally the previous night, and SG-1's resident anthropologist had looked tired and sounded decidedly stuffy. Maybe he'd just overslept. Maybe he'd just come down with a cold and was laid up in bed. Maybe he was perfectly safe in that rat hole of an apartment he'd hastily rented over the phone the week after his return from Oannes.

Somehow Jack wasn't buying it. The worry gnawing at his gut refused to be ignored, and he gave up pretending to be working at his desk. He stood and went to the door of his office, cursing archeologists and overreactions all the way.

He opened his door to find a captain poised to knock. "Oh. Colonel." She looked uncomfortable.

"Carter," Jack nodded. "What do you need?"

"Just wondering about…" She trailed off and took in his determined stance. He would've sworn there was relief in her eyes. "Ah. Going to find Daniel, sir?" she asked.

"He's a big boy, Carter. Just running late. When he shows up, have him call me, by the way. Tell him I have nothing against hitting a guy with glasses." He brushed by her, and really, that should've been it.

"So…going to find Daniel, sir?"

Jack grit his teeth. "Yes," he ground out without turning to face her. He was a colonel in the US Air Force. He'd run black ops. He'd been to other worlds, for crying out loud. At what point had he been relegated to playing babysitter for a too-smart trouble magnet with a dust mite allergy?

"That's all I was wondering about." If she was smug, at least she kept it out of her voice. "Call me when you find him?" She didn't quite mask the quiet worry, though. "Also…Teal'c wants a call, too." He could've sworn he heard her mumble, "The big baby."

"Sure. I'll do that."

"And if he is fine—which I'm sure he is," she hastened to add, "please let him know I'll be by to kill him."

Jack allowed a small smile she couldn't see. "Will do, Carter." He made his way to the elevator, grumbling the whole way up to ground level. He was just approaching security to leave the mountain when he spotted a decidedly blustery figure making its way toward him down the hallway. Even with the dark gray ball cap, it was obviously Daniel. The relief he felt was immediate, the tightness that had been growing in his stomach evaporating like it had never been there. Then there was only annoyance. "_Daniel_," he barked.

The shaggy, hat-covered head popped up, and its owner froze. Then Daniel hefted his backpack a little higher and ducked his head and kept walking. "Jack?" There was something there that wasn't unlike a condemned man walking toward his own execution.

It was on the tip of his tongue to say, _Don't you 'Jack?' me_, but he managed to catch himself. He'd noticed recently that he tended to talk to his archaeologist like a wayward child whenever he was trying to keep him in line, and he really didn't want to have that conversation with Carter and Teal'c again. The two had looked way too smug when they'd approached him about it. So he went instead with, "Forget to set the alarm?" in a voice that was low and dangerous and promised grave retribution.

"No," he said a little defensively. "I remembered to set it." As Daniel got closer, he seemed increasingly uncomfortable, kept his head down. And Jack noticed what he was wearing. In addition to the hat, there were blue flannel pajama pants, old low-top Chuck Taylors with laces untied, white t-shirt, and a tattered jacket. Now that…was odd.

"Uh-ahem. Did I miss the memo on casual Wednesday?"

"Yes. You'll probably want to go check your inbox. Immediately. I won't keep you." With the bill of the hat so low, Jack couldn't see his face, but his ears had gone pretty red as he tried to brush by his CO.

"Hold it." Jack grabbed the nearest arm, swung him around to face him, ducking a bit to catch the wayward blue eyes. Intent on getting a good explanation for why his archaeologist had well and truly stood up his team, not to mention General Hammond. What he got was a bit more than he expected. "What the…?" He tipped the hat back, maneuvering Daniel's chin up so he could get a better look at the damage. The black eye was fresh, still swollen, with a cut lip to match and a nasty scrape along the jaw line. Jack stared, transfixed for a moment. What had been irritation turned immediately to dark, stormy rage. "What happened?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm with deadly undertones.

With an exasperated sigh, Daniel pulled his chin out of Jack's grasp. Waved off his concern like it was nothing. "I'm fine. I'm so late, Jack; I gotta go."He went to get to the elevator, but Jack still had that grip on his arm. "Ow," he muttered.

Jack let him go. Oh, he did not like that. "You have more bruises I can't see?" he demanded.

Daniel looked away, and under the bruises there was a deep flush of embarrassment. "You should see the other guy?"

"Oh, trust me. I intend to." Whoever it was was about to be introduced to some very slow, very painful black ops justice.

Daniel looked up and down the hall, obviously convinced they were making a scene. No one was even looking their way. "Jack. Look, I really need to get to my office. Can we not do this now?"

"When would you like to do this?"

"Is 'never' an option?"

Jack sighed, and it may have sounded more like a growl before he caught his archaeologist by the sleeve and tugged him onto the elevator. He probably hit the button with more force than necessary. Daniel was already glaring at him. "Don't look at me like that. And where are your glasses?"

Daniel started to cross his arms but seemed to think better of it. Then caught himself and crossed his arms anyway. It was good. Jack almost didn't see the wince. "I have a pair in my office. You hit the wrong floor, by the way. My office is further down."

"Did I?" Jack shot back. "You want to tell me before we get there, or should I just wait to hear you tell it all to Fraiser?"

"I don't need to see Dr. Fraiser. I'm fine. It's just some bruises."

"Oh, right. And this here?" He fingered the collar of Daniel's t-shirt where there was a large splotch of brown from dried blood, most likely that had run down his face from that split lip.

Daniel batted his hand away. "Clearly life-threatening. Might want to call ahead, let them know to charge the paddles." Stubborn, smart aleck little…

"Not a bad idea because you keep this up, you may not make it down there. Now, you are going to tell me exactly what happened, right now."

"You sound pretty convinced."

"Daniel. So help me…"

"No."

"_Tell me what happened_."

The blue eyes went bright and defiant, the chin lowered. "Make me."

Jack reached out and hit the stop button. Daniel's eyes widened slightly, and he took a step back, wincing as his back hit the metal wall of the elevator car. His hands were fists. He looked positively ready for a fight. _Nice. Definitely time to rethink your strategy, O'Neill._ Kid had obviously had a rough night. He was pretty sure Daniel knew he'd never hurt him, but bullying him into doing things Jack's way right then probably wasn't a real sound approach. He held up his hands in surrender. Gave him back some control. "Hey," he said in a gentler tone. "I'm not trying to play you that way, Danny. I just want to know what happened. So I can help. Talk to me. Please."

Daniel blinked several times, fingers gradually unclenching, and he leaned against the wall like that was what he'd been planning to do all along. Hitched one shoulder in an uncomfortable shrug. "No big deal. Some _idiot_ broke into my apartment last night." Face all bruised up, and he made it sound like someone had stolen his newspaper. He huffed in irritation. Then sniffed. Then winced.

Jack had been there to help Daniel move in. He'd felt awful about losing the old apartment after Daniel's apparent "death" on Oannes. That place had been nice. But this new one… He'd told Daniel then, he'd _told_ him it was a bad neighborhood. Stupid little shoebox of a place, but Daniel had been insistent. It was cheap and temporary, and he'd moved a lot of stuff into his office, so he didn't need too much space, and _It'll be fine, Jack,_ like he was some worried mother hen. Which he wasn't_._ "Somebody _broke into your apartment_? Why didn't you call me?"

"It was practically the middle of the night," Daniel reasoned. "And there were police and stuff, and I had to go to the station, and it was…ugh, it was all so pointless."

"So what the heck happened?"

Daniel narrowed his eyes. "What do you think happened? I _have_ been training with Teal'c, you know. So, guy breaks in. And then I roundhouse Jaffa-kick him in the face. He goes down, and I'm like, '_Kree, sucka!_'" What it lacked in his usual eloquence and flailing hand gestures and honesty, it made up for in spirit and ridiculousness and sounding uncannily like something Jack would say. Daniel stood there glaring and sarcastic and like he wished the floor would swallow him up.

If it weren't for a member of his team holding himself so carefully and that bloodstain on his shirt, Jack would've laughed. As it was, he winced sympathetically. "'Kree, sucker.'" He nodded. "Hm. I probably wouldn't have gone that _exact_ route, but…"

Daniel sighed and looked away. "What did you expect, Jack?" His voice got quiet. "He beat the crap out of me." He rubbed the side of his head, and the poor kid had to have a killer headache.

Jack crossed his arms and nodded. "Did you get a good look at him?" he asked kindly.

"I gave his description to the police," Daniel allowed, and his arms wrapped around himself in that partly defensive, partly consoling way Jack noticed he often did when he was feeling uncertain or insecure. "There was a sketch artist."

"And you're sure he wasn't after anything specific? Didn't know who you are, didn't know anything about...anything?"

"I walked in on him unplugging the TV you bought me. Don't figure he was looking for the secrets of interplanetary wormhole travel."

That at least was a relief. But it was another reason Jack would very, very soon be lobbying for Daniel to move to a more secure location. It was an uneasy sort of thought. The Stargate was a big secret, one that Jack could imagine would eventually find its way to the wrong ears. Should that happen, was there a more convenient target than Dr. Daniel Jackson? "And the jammies?" he asked, indicating the plaid pants.

Daniel looked embarrassed again. Tugged absently at the offending sleepwear. "I went to the police station as is, you know? I wasn't thinking about…my attire. By the time they were done with me, I was late, I didn't want to drive all the way back out to the apartment. I figured I would just get here, change. I didn't think you'd be waiting for me at the door."

He didn't fail to note the insinuation that Daniel would rather Jack hadn't found out. "And how would you have explained…" he gestured toward the injuries.

Guilt flashed quickly across his eyes. "I…planned on going down to the gym for a little while."

Jack tilted his head carefully. Because _surely_ not. "You wanna run that by me again?"

Daniel swallowed. "What?" he tried to look innocent.

Oh, come on. "Who did you plan on getting to beat on you enough to cover up all this?"

He had the audacity to roll his swollen eyes. "Whoever won the straw pull?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

A careless shrug. "I have a smart mouth." He said it like it was a famous quote.

"Who told you that?" Jack demanded. "Punk who robbed you?"

"I've heard it more than once." The way he said it, so offhand, set every one of Jack's nerves on edge. Like it didn't matter. Like it should be expected. And Jack knew there were people, even on base, who didn't like the kid, resented him for his lack of military training, his spot on SG-1, his intelligence, heck his allergies. But if it had gotten to the point, in any arena, where Daniel was confident he could find plenty of willing participants to knock him around while he was obviously already messed up… Oh, there would be words.

"Well, you know what?" Jack stepped up into his space. "You do have a smart mouth. You have since I met you. You may have the biggest linguistical brain of your generation, and you can make peace with just about anybody, but if that doesn't work at the end of the day, you're still stupid fearless, and you don't take anybody's crap. That's what I respect about you. It's also one of the reasons you're on my _team_. That's a noun, by the way. Team. And in case you need a definition, Mr. Linguist, it means that if someone is messing with you, Teal'c will rip their arms off, and Carter will beat them over the head with 'em, but that's only if they get there first. Because if _I_ make it there ahead of them, there won't be enough left for that to be a viable option. You hearing me right now?"

Daniel stared at him open-mouthed for all of three seconds. Very clearly, that hadn't been the talk he'd been expecting to hear. Finally he reached over without a word and hit the button for the elevator. He leaned back against the wall, blinking and processing, and Jack didn't remember him being this stunned when he'd seen the Stargate for the first time.

"Now you're speechless?"

The kid glanced down for a moment. Then he met Jack's eyes. His lips quirked in a grin. "It's, um. It's _Dr_. Linguist. Actually."

"Really? I don't get the last word even this one time?"

Daniel pressed his lips together in a close-mouthed smile and graciously conceded. The kid was blushing for crying out loud, shy and pleased and _grateful_, and good grief, it was one stupid compliment. Not even a compliment really. Just someone saying, _Hey, I'd prefer you __**not**__ be all beat up._ Daniel sighed as the elevator doors opened on the infirmary. Looked at Jack pleadingly.

Jack had a theory. That Daniel's prowess as a cultural liaison had very little to do with his gift for languages and cultural understanding and everything to do with giant blue eyes that made you feel like a real ogre for denying the monster anything he wanted. "What?"

"I really don't want to do this. Janet already makes me carry an extra first aid kit when we go on missions."

Bless that sweet, tiny health enforcer. "Did they check you out before you went to the police station?"

Daniel contemplated that, and Jack could feel him working out a way to say _Of course, Jack_, without actually lying. His face lit up.

"And by 'they,' I mean legitimate medical professionals."

His face fell. "Do we have to tell her what happened?"

Jack settled his arm across his friend's shoulders. "Well, if we tell her I did this to you in the gym, she will make it her personal mission to destroy me. And she has ways…so… I say let's stick with '_Kree, sucka.'_"

Daniel let out a breathy little half-laugh but still looked miserable. And there was the hat and the pants and the black eye all working together to make him look about fourteen years old. Blast. It. All.

"Daniel. She's your friend. She's not gonna think less of you. It's not like you invited this low-life to break into your house and hurt you."

"You wouldn't've let it happen," Daniel muttered. And there was something very…well…sweet in the way he sounded entirely sure. "He didn't even have a gun."

"And how many more years of training do I have than you?"

"You really want me to answer that?" Oh, that brightened him right up. Snarky young…

"Shut up, Daniel."

SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG 1SG1

If ever Jack had felt vindicated about sending a whiney linguist to see the doc… A concussion. Two cracked ribs. Not to mention the whole crop of bruises. He hadn't actually expected Daniel to be such a mess, but it wasn't long after that t-shirt came off, Jack looked down at his own hands and realized he had fingernail marks dug into his palms. He hated this. Reminded Jack of when they got him back from the dark side of P3X-797 after the fiasco with the Touched. This burglar had worked the kid over but good.

_And he'd wanted to go to the gym and pick a fight to try to gloss this over. Unbelievable._

Jack called Carter and Teal'c during x-rays, and they'd come down bearing gifts and shamelessly spoiling their civilian while Jack looked on in approval. Carter brought coffee and candy bars and cookies—basically the cornerstones of Daniel's entire dietary regime. And Teal'c brought a small, brown stuffed bear. Where he'd gotten it, Jack couldn't imagine. Daniel had looked at it, very perplexed, and then Teal'c had explained it was an Earth custom meant to give comfort and encourage healing. He'd also explained very solemnly that he'd read that one was supposed to hug it in order for its curative properties to function. He'd even demonstrated. If the look on Carter's face was any indication, she'd had a hand in it. And if that hadn't convinced him, there was also the way she gestured at him as she was leaving that she wanted a picture of Daniel with the bear.

In any case, after the two had been shooed out, Jack stayed for the ultrasound that revealed no internal bleeding. Always a plus. And then there were prescriptions for antibiotics and muscle relaxants and the like. And then it was time for the fight.

"What's the difference between resting here and resting in my office?" Daniel sat there on the edge of an infirmary bed, shirtless, bare feet dangling, wearing those absolutely ridiculous sleep pants, hair mussed, eyes bright, and he was clearly set for doing battle.

Fraiser arched an eyebrow. The look that cowed hardened Marines and had been rumored to intimidate diseases at the microscopic level. "You have a concussion, Daniel. The last thing you need right now is to be straining your way through a translation or staring at a computer screen."

Between his pout and her glare, Jack half expected there to be some sort of huge cataclysmic event. _Unstoppable Force? Meet Immoveable Object._

"There's a couch in there. It's more private and comfortable. I promise not to strain or stare at anything."

"Which I suppose would work. If I had never met you."

"Well, I can't just stay here all day. There's nothing to do."

"You really have no idea what resting even is, do you? One would think that you, of all people…"

"Okay, what is so hilarious about everybody pointing out that I'm a linguist all the time? Yes, I know what words mean."

Jack couldn't take anymore. "Doc," he interrupted. "I'll take him home."

Two terrifying sets of eyes landed on him. Some days it just wasn't worth getting out of bed. A haughty "Well, as long as you know what's best for my patient, Colonel." at the same time as an indignant "I don't _need_ to go home, Jack."

Jack held up his hands. Mostly for protection. "Fine, fine. You two want to stay here and yell at each other, that's great. Really sweet. As long as you know going in that _he's_ not going to get any rest, and _you're_ not gonna get anything done." He probably shouldn't have added, "And I have it on good authority that your faces might freeze like that." Really regretted that course he'd taken from the Daniel Jackson School of Self-Preservation. But their twin scowls were too much to ignore.

"You want to take him home so he can ignore medical advice…"

"Oh, I'd be going, too," Jack said. "Think I know the drill by now. No NSAIDs, caffeine, etc. Watch for other symptoms, make sure he rests, keep him from being Daniel…" Nothing he hadn't done before.

"I'm clearly sitting right here…"

"All right, Colonel O'Neill. If you want him, he's all yours. Daniel, I will release you into the Colonel's care." Daniel opened his mouth. She saw him coming a mile away. "Before you start, I know you're not a child, and I know how many degrees you have, how many languages you speak, and how many false gods you've defeated. And yet, that's still the only way you're getting out of here. If I hear that you refuse to listen to him or to follow all of my instructions to the letter, I'll let Cassandra know that you're very sorry, but you won't be available this weekend as you'd arranged." Using an adorable twelve-year-old girl. _Janet, you diabolical genius._

Daniel's eyes widened and then narrowed. "You. Wouldn't. Dare."

She didn't even blink. "Try me."

"I promised her we'd watch _Anastasia_! Like two weeks ago!" Daniel took his promises to Cassandra very seriously. Jack had the feeling he knew what it was to be a kid getting lied to, and Daniel never wanted to be that guy in Cassandra's eyes. The two had a bond. There was the whole tragically-orphaned thing they had in common. And they also had the recently-adopted thing, although Daniel probably hadn't quite realized that yet.

"Then I guess you'll want to behave the rest of this week, won't you?" Looking very self-satisfied, Fraiser glanced at Jack. "I'll go have his prescriptions filled. Get him ready to go, won't you?" At Jack's nod, she left, closing the curtain behind her.

There was a beat when all they could hear was the fading sound of her heels clicking ominously on the cement. Daniel sat, chin jutted out in a full-blown, angry pout. Then he said, utterly deadpan, "I hate her."

Jack smothered a grin. "No you don't."

"Okay, I don't," he admitted. "But that doesn't mean I'm convinced she's not evil."

"Wow. You are cranky." And sick and sleep-deprived and beat half to death. "Come on." Jack grabbed his glasses from his office, a clean, black t-shirt to replace that ruined white one and, upon request, went down to Daniel's locker to grab him a pair of jeans. Apparently his ego had already taken too much of a thrashing to permit another trek through the mountain in flannel jamjams. By the time Jack got back and pulled back the curtain, things were not well.

Daniel was dry-heaving over a tray.

_Crap._ Jack slid behind him, supported him as best he could through the spasms. He knew cracked ribs. Throwing up with them was pure, unreasonable agony. "Try to relax."

Daniel spat some bile into the tray. Wasn't much in him. When he was done, Jack maneuvered him back against his chest, feeling the tremors go through him in waves, all the muscles tensed up, fighting the nausea, probably fighting back the urge to scream. "Relax, Danny," he said again. "Keep breathing." Daniel's hand reached blindly until Jack took it, grasped it firmly. "I know," he murmured. It sucked.

Frasier had gotten there at some point. Wasn't anything really she could do. But there was that gaze. Not the frightening one. The other one. Because for all she was kind of a health Nazi, she cared about her people. And she definitely cared about the stubborn archeologist who could be manipulated by how much he cared for her adopted daughter.

She wordlessly handed Jack a paper cup of water. Daniel shook his head against Jack's collar bone, and Jack could practically hear, _Just give me a minute. I'm fine. Give me a minute._ But since it wasn't actually spoken, it was easy to ignore. He held the cup to Daniel's lips. "Take small sips."

Daniel obeyed. Tentatively. And despite all the spirit and stubbornness, Jack knew he had to feel just awful. He managed a few swallows of water, and he just lay there limply as the tenseness faded.

"So what was that about?" Jack asked quietly.

"Ouuuuch," he exhaled weakly. His throat sounded rough and sore from throwing up acid.

"Daniel?"

"Mm." He shifted and winced. "Concussed."

"You've been nauseated this whole time?"

"Meds made me sick."

Fraiser stepped up. "Which they wouldn't have if… You haven't eaten anything at all today, have you." It was to her credit that it wasn't even really a question.

Daniel had the grace to look chagrined. "Didn't want to throw up."

It was definitely fondness and sympathy in her eyes as she shook her head and turned away. "I'll throw in something for the nausea. No extra charge."

Jack smiled and ruffled Daniel's sweaty hair. He answered for both of them. "Thanks, Doc."

SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG1SG 1SG1SG1

Getting him out of the mountain wasn't difficult. Hammond had simply approved the time off and alluded that he'd be checking in on the police investigation. He'd also alluded that he was considering sending Teal'c in to disembowel the perp once they'd found him. The old softy.

Daniel had fallen asleep against the window almost as soon as he was in Jack's truck, one arm under his head, the other wrapped protectively around his middle. The hat had been pulled over unruly hair once again, but didn't do much to obscure the damage from this angle.

"Daniel." He reached across the seat. "Wake up, big guy. We're home."

Hazy blue eyes blinked at him. Then they closed firmly. "Too many stairs."

There were three steps up the porch. That didn't seem unreasonable. "I am not carrying you. We would both end up dead. Come on. You can sleep inside."

"Not. Worth it."

"Come on. I'll help you."

"The elevator's broken again, Jack." A heavy sigh that ended with a wince. "Can't we just…"

"We're not at your place, you idiot," Jack said patiently. Eyebrows went up and Daniel actually bothered lifting his head at that. "We're at mine."

He looked around a little bit. Seemed perplexed. Calmer. But perplexed. "Oh."

For a genius, the kid could be so slow. "You seriously thought I was taking you back to that fourth-floor cardboard box you live in?"

Daniel shrugged uncomfortably and didn't answer.

"Yeah, well. That seems like a fun conversation we can save for later." In which Jack would be picking up moving boxes and tape from the Home Depot and dealing with a huffily protesting anthropologist who kept saying, _You __**said**__ we were just going to get a deadbolt for my door!_

He managed to get a still-groggy Daniel up and into the house and settled on the couch with relative ease. He figured Daniel would be dozing by the time he got back with a bowl of microwaved soup and a slice of plain toast. He had, unfortunately, been mistaken.

Daniel sat on the couch, hunched forward a little, arms wrapped around himself and glaring mutinously at his shoes. Ah. Jack set bowl and plate down on the coffee table, went around and knelt in front of him. Stood to reason the kid had stiffened up quite a bit on the ride over. He needed his meds, and he needed to not throw them back up again. Jack went about dealing with the shoe laces. He pulled one shoe off. "See, you make fun of me for my old guy slip-on house shoes, but now we see who's..." The drop of moisture that hit the carpet near his hand made him look up. He softened immediately. "Hey."

He was fighting them. Bless him, he was fighting. "This is so stupid. I can't even untie my own…" He gestured angrily, and the movement dislodged another couple of tears. Sympathy flooded Jack's chest. The hurt and the helplessness had to catch up sometime. Daniel's face was flushed with anger and humiliation, and his face was crumbling even while he tried futilely to scrub away the tears.

"Come on. You've got cracked ribs, Daniel. Doesn't matter how tough you are, that's gonna hurt for awhile. That's nothing to be ashamed of."

Oh, but that wasn't what this was about at all. "He just came into my house, Jack! While I was sleeping. And…and…and…he didn't even know me, and it didn't _matter_! He wouldn't listen, and I couldn't do anything! And that's all that ever happens. People just come in, and they take what they want, and I just can't do anything at all except talk. And I'm supposed to be so good at it, and it never works."

"Sometimes it works," Jack pointed out quietly.

"Not when it's important," Daniel insisted, swiping his sleeve across his eyes, and that couldn't be comfortable with the bruises. "You got me that TV. It was probably expensive. He was just gonna take it, like that didn't matter. He was gonna take that and whatever else he wanted because I'm an easy mark."

_Oh, buddy._ This wasn't about the TV. Maybe Daniel didn't even know it yet, but it obviously wasn't about the TV. "You antagonized this guy, didn't you." If Daniel had just surprised the guy, he might've been threatened or even hit a couple times. But Daniel's injuries were more than that. He'd ticked the guy off.

"He was wrong," Daniel protested.

"Yeah. He was. But Daniel, it was just a stupid TV. Who cares? Those things can be replaced. Easily. _You_, on the other hand…"

"Some things can't just be replaced, Jack!" And the eyes went wide, and there was a sharp, short intake of breath. That was Jack's cue.

He moved up next to Daniel on the couch, carefully pulling the kid into his arms in the same motion, relieved when Daniel let him. "Hey," he said quietly, rubbing his back, mindful of the bruises. "Not your fault."

"I just let them take her, Jack," he cried. There it was.

"You weren't even there when he took her," Jack chided. Silently, he was grateful. If Daniel had been there, he would've been killed. Jack knew it with eerie certainty.

"I couldn't even talk him into taking me, too. I might've been able to do something for her, Jack, but I couldn't make him listen. I couldn't _do_ anything."

Jack closed his eyes for a moment. Some things really, _really_ weren't fair. "I'm sorry I couldn't save her, Daniel," he said softly. And he meant it.

Daniel sniffed, but there was no way he would ever have let that stand. "It wasn't your fault."

"Well then tell me again how it's yours."

A small, tired sigh was huffed against Jack's shoulder. It took a few moments of quiet, careful breathing before Daniel said, very convincingly, "I'm her _husband_." And Jack knew what that meant. Knew what it was to love someone. Knew what it was to swear to honor and _protect_. Knew what it was to _feel_ that. To own it. Jack had failed to protect Sara from his own grief, and he still felt the heavy weight of guilt for that. The difference was that that was Jack's fault. And this was _not_ Daniel's.

"Yes, you are. You are. That's why you're doing everything you can to save her."

Daniel pulled back enough to stare up at him. His eyes were raw, exposed. "What if I can't do it?" There was so much fear there. It was almost a relief in a way. This from the kid who stared down Ra, took a staff blast meant for Jack, lived for a year on a foreign world, loved, lost, hoped, and still stepped through the Gate as often as he could with both eyes wide open and expecting something _good_. Jack had worried more than once that maybe Daniel didn't have the brain space to be afraid. The fact that this fear went so deep spoke more of his love for his wife than anything else could have. "I couldn't hold my own against a petty thief, Jack. How do I save Sha're from the freaking ancient lord of chaos?"

It was an honest question. Jack answered as honestly as he could. "With your crazy big brain. And with Carter. And with Teal'c. And with me." He pulled him a little bit closer, settled his hand on the side of his face. "I know it feels like it's you versus the universe. But it's not. Okay? You have people on your side. The kind that don't plan on leaving anytime soon. And we will do whatever we can to put your family back together. You gotta know that."

Daniel's forehead fell tiredly to Jack's shoulder again. He just sat there for a second. Quiet. Then, "You're such an optimist." It was unclear whether that was an insult or a compliment. It was very clear that it was gratitude.

Jack nodded sagely. "There are those who call me Optimist Prime."

"Jack, nobody calls you that."

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Jack had had to reheat the soup. He had his feet up on the coffee table, game on TV, and mostly, he was shooting small glances at the archaeologist playing with his soup.

"These noodles are shaped like stars," Daniel said, much more baffled by this fact than anyone who'd spent any portion of their childhood in the United States should be.

"Stop looking at it, and eat it. It's nutritious and stuff, and you need to take you meds. Preferably without throwing them up again."

Daniel made a face. "Thank you. Because who really needs an appetite anyway."

Jack winced. "Sorry." Well. He wasn't widely known for his tact. "Just try to eat some more. You comfortable? Want to borrow some sweatpants or something?" Daniel was pretty well set up for staying over as far as toothbrush and stuff went ever since his stay when he got back from Abydos. He'd stayed a few times since then, during the times when he was injured or when Jack had dragged him out of the mountain and couldn't bring himself to drop the kid off at his deathtrap apartment. If only he'd been in that mindset the previous night, none of this would've happened. He hadn't wanted to be overbearing. Yeah. Screw that.

"No. I'm fine. These jeans are pretty old. You know. Comfy." More likely he didn't relish the thought of the moving and bending it would take to change clothes. Jack couldn't blame him.

"Think you can handle drugs, yet?"

"Couldn't hurt, right?" A brief, shy smile. Like the searing agony of puking one's guts out with broken ribs was something to be slightly embarrassed about. It was that sort of shy, self-depreciating smile that made Jack wonder if Daniel just really wasn't all that afraid of pain.

He gave him the meds, started the countdown on how long it would take the young linguist to pass out. Fifteen went by, and Daniel was starting to look distinctly glassy-eyed. All of a sudden, "My TV is nicer than yours." As though he'd just made a discovery.

"Hm?"

"Mine's nicer. We don't ever watch it at my 'partment."

"Yeah. I know."

"You got a nicer couch," Daniel allowed. "And house."

"Yep."

"My TV, though. Waaay nicer."

"Well. Mine's going to have to do until we can get you a new one."

Daniel wrinkled his nose. "I don't need a new one."

"I thought you said that punk stole yours."

"He didn't steal it." He played with a thread on his jeans, distracted. "He was _going_ to steal it."

"I thought you said you couldn't stop him."

"I couldn't. But…I could delay him. And…Mrs. Gorman is always calling the police whenever anyone's too loud. Sirens scared him enough to run away. He didn't have time to take it. It's pretty heavy, you know."

No, no, no. Couldn't be. "Daniel. You're a little stoned right now. So I might have a little trouble following you. Are you telling me you got this guy to beat the crap outta you _on_ _purpose_?"

"I'm not _stoned_, Jack…"

"Daniel."

He shrugged and was a little too smug to sound innocent. "I have a smart mouth."

"Daniel. I'm going to kill you."

"You wouldn't do that." He seemed inordinately pleased he could say it with such confidence.

"Do you have any idea how _insane_, much less irresponsible, it is to put yourself in the line of fire to prevent some two-bit thief from making off with your _TV_?" The kid didn't even watch that much television! He was a reader!

"He didn't even have a gun," Daniel reminded, clearly confused as to why Jack was so upset.

"And you knew that? Right from the get go? Not to mention, you don't have to have a gun to kill someone, Daniel. I mean, for crying out loud, you've already been dead three times. What, are you going for a record? You might already have it; you can _stop_ now."

"Three?" He obviously took issue with that. He counted on his fingers. "There was the time on Abydos, and the time with the Nox. That's only twice." _Only_ twice. Nice, Daniel.

"You're forgetting your adventure on Oannes with Lagoon Boy."

"I wasn't dead then. You just thought I was dead. That shouldn't count."

"It counts."

"But if…"

"It counts." According to one of his least favorite nightmares, in which the stupid kid violently, gruesomely burned to death screaming for helpless Jack to save him, it definitely counted. The thought of it made him shiver still. "Doesn't matter. I'm telling you right now. If you ever do something like this again, I will beat you senseless myself."

That actually elicited a giggle. Jack blinked. Daniel didn't giggle often. _Oh. Great. Apparently all it takes is the prospect of a former Black Ops colonel kicking the crap out of him. _Who was he kidding? Daniel knew he wouldn't do that. It was somewhat gratifying, actually. Because he had beat the crap out of him once, and Daniel hadn't believed it then either.

When Jack had gotten Daniel back after all the stuff with the Touched, the archeologist had been all over black and blue. He'd been helping a wincing Daniel up the path to the Stargate, guiltily apologizing for the bruises that had come from him while he'd been under the effects of the virus. Daniel had looked at him, tight lines of pain and exhaustion around his face. _"Oh, yeah," _he'd said. _"Those bruises. That was you? Sorry. Memory's a little fuzzy. Thought maybe I'd been attacked by an especially vindictive Girl Scout troupe."_ At Jack's look, he'd shrugged. _"I just can't get into the cookies." _And then a look. _"You need to work on your right hook."_ He'd promptly passed out after that.

Jack shook his head. "You think you're so tough." He'd meant it to come out sort of condemning and dangerous. So when it came out sort of affectionate, he was annoyed.

But Daniel shook his head at him, and good grief, he looked like he wouldn't remember any of this later anyway. "You wouldn't."

"Wouldn't what?"

"Hurt me." And there was a confidence there. It was the scariest thing. Because what in the world—universe—had he done to inspire that kind of confidence? Daniel was a nice guy, but Daniel didn't trust anybody. At least not anybody on Earth. At least not anybody on Earth besides, apparently, Jack. And Jack just couldn't figure it out.

_Sha're is gone. Jack says we'll find her. If anyone can, he can._ Maybe he would never know. But whatever the reason, it was an honor, and one he'd never expected.

"Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter how smart or annoying I am. You wouldn't." Daniel nodded to himself. "'f I was gone, you couldn't have anybody to nag at."

"Think so?"

"Sam'd break your nose if you tried. And Teal'c would…" he put a finger to his eyebrow and said with ominous menace, "the _eyebrow_."

Jack couldn't help the small smile. "You should've eaten more before you took your meds."

"Universe soup." The slightly-dizzy slur was unmistakable.

"Go to sleep, Daniel."

"'m not tired."

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"Thank you very much." Jack hung up the phone, feeling very satisfied. There had been some initial resistance, but eventually he'd convinced the local authorities that this break-in/assault case should very much be a priority. Dr. Jackson was, after all, installed at a government facility. Jack may have led them to believe that their case involved concerns to foreign diplomacy and that if they didn't want federal law enforcement called in to oversee their progress, they would keep Jack apprised. He'd gotten the sketch of the burglar. And there were still some favors he could call in. It was only a matter of time now. _You picked the wrong guy to mess with, pal._

"Jack!" Daniel slammed through the door to Jack's office. Jack glanced at the clock. 8:30 on a Monday morning. Of course, they were about due for a catastrophe. "We're gonna need an inflatable raft, 1600 feet of crepe paper, a low-grade explosive, and a literal ton of chocolate pudding. Possibly a metric ton. Also, some kind of biodegradable polymer that may or may not exist yet." He paused. "Come to think of it, we might be able to use marshmallow Peeps." He was obviously flustered, hair mussed like he'd run his hands through it a hundred times, shirt cuffs unbuttoned, and blue eyes blazing behind glasses and yellowing bruises.

Jack stared back from behind his desk. "I have two questions," he said slowly. "One: What are you talking about? And two: Is anyone in this room about to get fired or court marshaled because of it?"

"I'm talking about payback. And…maybe."

"Payback for whom?" Jack asked pleasantly. Daniel was the sweetest guy in the world. Didn't have a cruel bone in his body. But he also had a terribly creative brain and a similar origin story to Batman. Minus the wealth or the caring butler.

"Sam. She's a terrible person."

"Carter?" Daniel adored Carter. She listened to him. "Why? How?"

"You really don't check your e-mail, do you?" Without waiting for an invitation, Daniel came around to Jack's side of the desk and pulled up his e-mail. It didn't even occur to Jack to be bothered that Daniel knew his password.

He stared at the image on the screen. Felt his face redden. It was his house. And there he was, sitting up asleep on his couch. Which wouldn't have been so bad. Except there was Daniel, curled up very asleep on his chest, mouth slightly open to compensate for stuffed up sinuses. The deceptively angelic face, the fingers lightly grasping Jack's shirt. _Oh, for crying out… _And it _wasn't_ cute. It was practical. Took pressure off Daniel's ribs so he could sleep. That was all. Except that also Teal'c's teddy bear was clutched under Daniel's arm being both fluffy and adorable. And Jack was entirely positive that that hadn't been there at the time. The subject line simply read, _Teddy Bears._

She'd sent a second e-mail to Jack. _I asked you for a picture, sir. : )_

"So she sent this to…"

"Pretty much everyone."

That wasn't true. She'd only cc'd the people who knew them well. The ones who could really smirk and giggle if not openly mock them. Janet. Siler. Harriman. General Hammond. She hadn't sent it to SG-3 or, thank goodness, MacKenzie. She had scruples. Or at least a healthy fear of Daniel's revenge. Still. "So…she broke into my house. Silently. Without leaving a trace. Set you up with a stuffed bear. And took a picture." Jack was a notoriously light sleeper. That woman was a ninja menace. And not an unimpressive one.

"That's pretty much the situation."

"Mmhm." This was Stargate Command. Base of operations for the greatest cultural and scientific discovery the world had ever known. Home to some of Earth's most excellent minds. Most gifted ambassadors. Most qualified professionals. So it really wouldn't do to encourage this kind of behavior among his subordinates. It was very childish. _Very_ unprofessional. "How much of a low-grade explosive would you actually need? And is Teal'c helping you?"

* * *

A/N: So. Yeah. Dream. In this dream Daniel literally told Jack he Jaffa-kicked a guy in the face and yelled "Kree, sucka!" And I thought that was kind of hilarious. The characters here are very much dream versions of themselves. But in any case, hope you found some measure of entertainment in this odd little thing!


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